The Five Times That Joe Dredd Was Alone and The One Time He Wasn't
by GoWashTheLights
Summary: From a 5-plus-one challenge, featuring Dredd and Anderson. Dredd is eternally convinced that solitude is bliss, until he meets rookie Anderson. From his perspective, note the rating. Warning: Mature content, language, etc. Oneshot. Dreddson pairing.


**Author Note:** So, I'm not good at 5-plus-one prompts. I did one for a McKirk challenge, and I didn't really like how it turned out. THEN I suggested to the group I'm with that we do one for Dredd, which I've never even written for. That being said, I liked how this one panned out SO much, I'm happy to post it! Hopefully I've done Mr. Badass some justice :)

* * *

**(The First)**

"Hey, Joe, I heard you're taking a rookie through the grinder!"

I look over my shoulder. "You heard wrong."

Unphased, Guthrie chuckles easily. "No, I heard the Chiefs talking about it. You're gettin' a Green Helmet, man! Heard she's, like, one of the weird ones, or something."

I pause, and face him more directly. "You'd know all about being weird, wouldn't you, Guthrie?"

His face hardens, and I nod. "Stop sticking your ears where they don't belong, and don't make me say this again - I work alone."

I walk away with Guthrie's scowl at the back of my head. Down the empty halls, and past the office of the Chiefs, I know that the idiot is right. I see it in their eyes as I walk in for my shift, and as I leave each day. The Chiefs want _me, _of all Judges, to assess a rookie. Not that I can't do it, but the assessment sits on me as well. _I'll _be monitored, in how well I can determine whether the kid is a pass or fail.

Sometimes, it's a burden not worth carrying. A pain in the ass, really. Me, babysitting. My own scowl deepens and I mentally reiterate my vow: I work alone.

**(The Second)**

I walk into my quiet apartment, and breath a deep sigh now that the day is over. The events of Peach Trees are ones I wish to purge from my being, starting with a shower. I undress and head into the bathroom, immediately turning on the hot water. I barely even bother with the cold faucet, allowing the burn to seep into my skin. It's been an entirely god-awful, weird day I don't plan on revisiting anytime ever.

Lathering up, I wash my hair and body, reveling in the silence elsewhere in the place. Living alone means greeting no one, answering to no one, and pleasing no one - 'cept my own damn self. My hand slides down my stomach, and down against my cock. My fingers absently trail along my soapy skin, and for some reason, Anderson's face pops into my mind. I pause, thinking about the time transpired with the rookie. That blonde little Bambi had gone from the unprepared, quaking shadow I'd expected, to the capable Judge I hadn't.

I'm stroking myself again, and a content groan scrapes against my throat. I pull away in realization, and frown. I'm not used to thinking of anyone when I do this; it's completely unwelcome. I finish my shower quickly, and after drying off wander into the living room. Planting my bare ass onto the couch, I sit there a while. My stress is still itching under my skin, and it needs to be dealt with. I take my half hard member into my hand, and palm it more purposefully. I rest my head back, hearing the echoes of Anderson in my aching brain.

_"Joseph..."_

Her voice. It's her voice that keeps me going. My fist is pumping harder, and I thumb the tip every other stroke. "God..."

I picture her eyes, wide and hopeful. Not many people have eyes like that anymore. There's the curve of her neck, teasing under her short, wavy hair. She has a great body, I know that, and my hips surge upward in response.

My breath comes in hitches now. I'm losing control because I'm attaching someone to my personal time, and I won't last long. Anderson's clothes are disappearing now, and I see myself sucking her breasts. I wouldn't mind _her _sucking me off, with those full lips of hers.

Moaning, that's what brings me over the edge. The mental sight of her taking me into her mouth, with her smooth voice humming against my cock. My hand slams down against my balls, and after another jerk I'm coming. I grip the arm of the couch, and let my hot release splatter onto my abdomen. Anderson helps me through the rest, her whisper haunting against my ear. As the pleasure dies down, my irritation somehow returns.

This is why I need to be alone. No one to see the vulnerabilities I myself am blind to.

**(The Third)**

Fuck, was I stupid. I can admit that as I walk out of the Chief Judges' office. After sending the wagon to the scene, I'd made sure they had Anderson in one piece before they took her to the ER. My boots thump and chink as I head outside, sounding loud without the rookie at my heels. Her voice isn't replacing the silence I'm used to, but I can remember her last words before she'd been hauled into the ambulance.

_"I'm okay, s-sir. This is...nothing."_

She'd been choking on her own blood. She'd said it like it was the truth, like she wasn't broken in too many places. I knew I should have taken the lead, so she wouldn't have been in that goddamned intersection. I'm no martyr, of course, but Anderson is a vital asset. She belongs on crime-infested streets, not a disease-ridden bed.

I sigh. I'm _not_ taking on another partner this week, with such short notice. I disagree with how the others work, and they sure as hell don't have psychic abilities.

My radio kicks in. _"We have activity in the tenth sector, West side. Backup requested - High-speed chase is in progress."_

"Dredd, here. I'm on my way."

_"Confirmed. They're heading down Gemini Avenue."_

I cut the call and get on my bike. As I rev the engine, I mutter to myself, "Your fate is sealed now, perps."

It's stupid, but it's what Anderson would say if she were here.

**(The Fourth)**

It's been a week, and Anderson still hasn't woken up. From what I've been told, she's in a borderline coma...whatever the hell_ that_ means. I didn't really listen. I'm more irritated with the fact that if she doesn't wake up soon, I'm going to get reassigned. If she'd just open her eyes, the Judges will see her fit to return to eventual duty.

I'm standing outside her room now, watching her sleep on the other side of the glass. Her bruises are still dark and she's heavily bandaged. Her vitals read that she's _not _waking up any time soon.

"Shit, Anderson," I growl. Storming off, I leave the hospital and hop onto the LawMaster, talking a long trip nowhere. It's late, and I have work early tomorrow, but my mind is spinning with idiotic thoughts. I'd just be up for hours.

I end up in a desolated part of the city, and park my ride. There are no people or paved roads here, just a bunch of dirt, wind, and terminally unfinished apartments. I breathe in the cool air and remove my helmet, just to dry the sweat from my hair. My hand moves up to wipe my neck, and it remains there like dead weight. I sigh and shake my head, and a sudden surge of irritation comes over me.

Kicking at the flat ground, I bark, "FUCK, Anderson! Get your ass back in gear so you can finish your goddamned training!"

A week is too long. Seven days of solitude used to be a Godsend. It still would be, if Cassandra Anderson hadn't barged her way into my life.

**(The Fifth)**

"Rookie!"

I yell after her threateningly. She storms off anyway, hips swinging wildly with each step. How the hell can someone be so furious, and still look so good?

Even with my scraped thigh, I catch up to her easily and grasp her tiny shoulder. "Dammit, Anderson, I'm talkin' to you."

She isn't looking at me, and her body is tense. She's taking slow breaths as she stands there, facing away from me. "Let. Me. Go."

I can hear the quake in her voice, and my grip softens. I'm sill pissed, though, so I retort, "What have I told you about tactical maneuvers on the street?"

"I get it, okay? I made a mistake, I'm sorry. Let me go," she repeats. There's embarrassment and regret in her tone.

"That's not what I asked. Answer the question, rookie."

Anderson whips around long enough for me to see her glittering eyes. She brings her fist back, and whumps it along the side of my helmet. I'm already dizzy from turfing it, so the impact seems worse. When I recover, I've let go of her and I scowl. She has that look that she knows she's done something stupid, but she spats, "I'm not a _rookie! _It's been three months since I've recovered, well over the three-week training program - so, I'm not a Green Helmet!"

Her gaze falters, and a slight sympathy hits me. _I _don't call her that, but the other Judges do. It upsets her, and I don't blame her, because she's so damn superior to those swine. I watch her stomp over to her bike, and ride off down the street.

I spent the rest of the afternoon picking gravel from my torn skin. The leather ripped right through, giving me some serious road rash. It aches, but it's not as uncomfortable as the pang in my chest. I just call her rookie because, on her good days, she smiles at the nickname. It isn't because she hasn't already surpassed my expectations.

**(The +1)**

I walk out into the bedroom, clad in towel, having felt a nagging tug of modesty. I run another towel over my head and face, and leave it draped over a chair. I ease myself carefully onto the bed, watching the woman sleeping peacefully under my sheets.

Cassandra is on her stomach, with her arms tucked underneath the pillow. Her ass juts upward at a slight angle, and I fight the temptation to run my hand over it. What a body...

Being the physical person I am, the need to touch her in some way is overpowering. So, I settle for her head. Even after sex, her hair still looks great, soft and draped over her cheek like a veil. I brush it away, and rest my palm behind her ear. I think I kept my face closer to her hair more than any other part of her body; it was more satisfying than driving myself as deeply into her as I could. The sounds she uttered had been quiet, reticent, and it had forced me to really pay attention to her. The way she'd gripped my shoulders, or how she looked directly at me. I'd realized she could see right into my head without any psychic manipulation, and...

I don't know what I'm feeling now, but I can't ignore it. It makes my heart seize every few beats, and I massage my chest. I suppose that she and I can talk about things later on. The discomfort is worth it, because sitting in this quiet apartment, I'm not alone.


End file.
